


Blue Eyes

by PaleNoFace



Series: Tree Bros Adventures [19]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: /banging pots and pans/ HAVE YOU SEEN THIS FUCKIN METAPHOR, Alternate Universe - Magic, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Boys Kissing, Connor's the tree boy this time, Forests, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Look at it, M/M, Metaphors, No Dialogue, Rain, Tree Climbing, Treebros, Tribes And Clans, author is projecting as FUCK, like literally - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23480518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleNoFace/pseuds/PaleNoFace
Summary: Two times Connor lets Evan slip out of his life, and one time Evan decides to stay.(Feat. magic as a mental health metaphor, dead squirrels, and way too much water.)
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Series: Tree Bros Adventures [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/937122
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	Blue Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I POSTED THIS A LONG WHILE AGO DON'T FREAK OUT. Yes you might have read the first part of this mess before. I deleted it and completed it, and now it's a One Shot.

The first time Connor sees the blue eyes, he's running away from the rain.

His bag tied securely on his back, his bow dangling across his chest and his med pack tight between his clenched teeth, he's running as fast as his long legs allow him, hearing the rumbling water over the mad beat of his heart. He knows that if he doesn't find safety he's gonna die, he's gonna drown from groundswell, he's gonna die because _he can't swim_.

When finally he sees a Tall Tree, he knows he's gonna live, but he accelerates nonetheless. He has seen so many members of his clan washed away by the rain just because they slowed down. He has seen so many people disappear during a rain because they stopped instead of running for their life. He's not that stupid. He's not like them. He's almost on all four, gaining speed at each leap, focused, determined to survive.

Close, closer, always closer... When he's only two meters away from the trunk of the tree, he gets back on his feet without decelerating and grabs his claws. Helped by his momentum, he jumps forward and climbs his way up to the shelter he knows is here, not once looking back to see if the water is rising because he _knows_ it's rising. The foliage is dripping fat drops that fall in his face as he climbs higher and higher, searching desperately for a hole in the wood that means everything to him at the moment.

Water is streaming down his face, sticking long strands of hair in his eyes, so he closes them and forces himself to fuse with the tree. He hates doing this and usually avoids doing magic whatever are the circonstances, but he's not ready to die yet and prefers largely linking his mind to the tree instead of drowning on the spot. Blindly, he makes his way to where he feels the shelter is, and sighs in relief when his fingers meet an asperity that is not a branch. He opens his eyes, shakes away the weird feeling -and water- off of his face and drags himself inside of the tree.

He's soaked and cold, his thighs and lungs are hurting, his head spinning, and his stuff is probably unusable anymore but _fuck_ , he's alive, he made it, he didn't drown. He rolls on the side and untangles himself from his equipment, pushing his bag and weapons aside and going for his tunic that sticks uncomfortably on his frame like an ill-fitted second skin. The cool air makes him shake but it's still better than being a human-sized sponge. He gets rid of his breeches too after detaching his second set of claws, twisting them over the edge of the hole, squeezing out as much water as he can. Once he's done, he stumbles back and takes a look around.

The shelter, like any other shelter in any other Tall Tree, isn't made for more than three or four persons, five if they're determined. The tree stump is smooth under his fingers, testifying of many comings and goings from his people over time. Above his head, the bark forms a dome that peaks at five meters high, leaving space to make a second level. Except that there isn't. And there is no trace of human presence anywhere. Connor wonders how far away from his territory he truly is as he rolls up his slacks, trying to get the water out of the fabric. He sits by his stuff and starts sorting what can still be used and what cannot, illuminated every now and then by a lightning.

Connor isn't afraid of storms. He knows that the Tall Tree can't get hit because of the Thunder Tree that he can see behind the leaves. He knew about the different types of trees his people plant before he even learned how to walk. He knows how it works. He knows he's safe. It doesn't matter how hard the sky roars at him, Connor feels unconcerned. Instead of worrying, he takes a look at his bag. Thankfully, only some of his medicinal herbs are spoiled. It's annoying, but not the end of the world. He can replace most of it in a week or two if he tries hard enough.

That's when he sees him. Or better, when he hears him.

Somewhere under the shelter, on the lowest branches of the tree, there is someone whimpering in terror. Connor tilts his head and listens. Whoever is down there is in trouble with the rising waters, but seems to have a hard time climbing. Maybe they're paralyzed by fear. Maybe they're hurt. He pokes his head through the hole, squinting as soon as cold water trickles down his face again. _So much for trying to dry himself._ After a few seconds, he spots someone straddling on a branch just above the water. Connor's breath itches.

If he lets them alone they're gonna slip and fall in the water and he doesn't want to be responsible for an innocent's death. He takes a second to grab all four of his claws and jumps out of his hideout. The hard metal sinks in the soggy bark easily and it takes him less than a minute to get to the other person.

As soon as he's within earshot, they stop whimpering to look up in alarm. Connor slows down. It's a young man, he realizes, maybe even younger than him. He's drenched and shivering and his eyes widen in terror as Connor comes closer, but he stops a few steps away, hooks one of his claws on his belt and holds out a hand. For a full second the boy seems to confront his two options, but finally must think that muddy water is scarier than a wet stranger and grabs the extended arm. Connor pulls forcefully and drags him up, _up up up_ , away from the liquid threat. 

The boy is clumsy and awkward, unstable on his feet, but they make progress toward the hole in the trunk nonetheless. By the time they reach it, Connor is cold to the bone and his companion of misfortune is shaking harder than ever. They stumble inside, trying to keep a semblance of safety distance between them, but as he doesn't make a move to get rid of his clothing, Connor takes upon himself to walk into his personal space to tug at his sleeves. The boy yelps and take another step backwards, and Connor can't help but roll his eyes : this guy is going to make everything harder and even more confused. He reaches out and tugs again because the other doesn't have much room anymore to step back, but this time he does it a little gentler. The rumbling of the natural elements is too strong to talk over it, so he points at the soaked fabric and then at his own bare torso, trying to make a point.

Apparently he does, because the boy relaxes imperceptibly and lets him help untying his tunic. As soon as he's untangled from his clothes, the other shrinks on himself and frictions his pale arms. Connor steps up and goes for the hole, wringing everything to the core and dropping it next to his own attire in the vain hope it will dry some day. He turns back and- _has been his eyes so blue the whole time ?_ In the dim light of their shared refuge, they're burning with a very unnatural fire. Magic, but nothing like Connor has ever seen before. This is magic that peels the layer of water off of their bodies, that collects it into one large bubble before disappearing by the entrance.

The boy's hand drops and he's shaking even more, but not from cold this time. It's exhaustion, and Connor can feel it too, burning his eyelids, so he sits next to him, close enough to share warmth, distantly enough not to touch each other. The boy leans in and empties his lungs in a long sigh, his eyes fluttering shut. Connor follows his exemple seconds after, but not before pressing his own hand against the bark and thanking the Tall Tree for allowing them to survive another day.

*

When he wakes up the next morning, the sky is clearer, but it's still pouring. The boy is sitting next to the entrance, completely oblivious that Connor is watching him. He's wearing his yellowish tunic again, but not his strange leather protections, or even his boots. Connor shifts and the boy glances at him from above his shoulder, nervous.

Neither makes a move to get closer to the other. It's fine. They don't need it.

Connor asks his improvised room-mate what tribe he's from. The boys frowns and doesn't answer. Connor frowns too and wants to know his name. The other simply looks at him in incomprehension, then mumbles something that Connor never heard before. _Oh, bloody-fucking perfect._ He huffs and scoots closer to grabs his own tunic, so brown and threadbare that it's hard to distinguish it from the wood, but at least seems pretty dry by now. He's frustrated and tired and hungry and the only person he has met in over five months doesn't speak his language. Great.

As he passes his head through the collar, he feels something poking at him and he looks curiously over his shoulder, only to find the boy close, _way way too close_. Connor shrieks in surprise and the two of them jump before standing perfectly still, one at each end of the room.

There is a weird noise. Connor needs a moment to realize that the guy is laughing. It's not a happy laugh, more like a _nerves-cracking-laugh_ that bubbles in the boy's chest before exploding in his throat. Connor can't help but laugh along. They try again. Fail, and try once more. They laugh each time they can't understand each other. In the end, the boy points at himself and says, _Evan_. Connor thumbs at himself and says, _Connor_. They share a look and smile. It's almost confortable.

*

It rains again the next day. Evan stays inside, cleaning his bag and rummaging through his stuff. Connor takes the risk of climbing higher in the tree and shoots down two birds. Since they can't make fire inside of the tree, he tries his best to find a spot where the bark is dry enough, where he can feel that the sap isn't running strongly in the branch, and bores a hole in it. It's large enough to host a small bonfire ; nothing big enough to hurt the tree, but enough for them to cook.

Evan eventually gets out, first carefully, warily, an eye still open for the water rumbling under their feet, the other in Connor's general direction - not that he can blame him : they know nothing about each-other, only their respective names and the fact that they have trouble communicating. But Evan breathes deeply and sits just a little bit closer, seems a little more mindful of how he puts his body based on where Connor's is ; his eyes burn a little brighter as he uses his magic to keep the rain away from them ; his gaze lingers a little longer on him from something else than distrust. Connor doesn't mention it, doesn't even know how to point that out : instead, he plucks the birds, sorts the feathers for his arrows and cooks the meat. It's dry and bland, but it's warm and it fills their stomachs for the day.

*

The rain doesn't looks like it's going to stop any time soon. Connor is sick of it. He's growing restless and tense, climbing up and down the tree every day looking for dry twigs and small animals. He's not always as lucky as he's been the first days. Sometimes he catches a rat that found safety in the lower branches, sometimes he comes back to the shelter with his bag completely empty. These days, Evan gazes worriedly at him and gets out himself, always coming back with a handful of herbs Connor doesn't recognize to make some sort of soup that only hides the hunger. These days are probably the worse.

*

They talk to each other a lot, no matter how hard it is to understand their respective words. It keeps them both from going crazy. Connor tells Evan about the trees he knows, and Evan explains to him the difference between plants. Connor eventually teaches him how to use the claws, and Evan shows him how to skin their preys properly. They spend long moments simply sitting by the hole, huddled together, silently hoping for the sun to rise again and dissipate the dripping clouds. But the sun keeps them waiting, and the rain doesn't stop.

*

When he's nervous, Evan paces in the shelter. When its drives him crazy, Connor takes a walk outside and doesn't come back before he's chilled to the bone, instead of yelling at the only human he has around. These times, Evan knows better than annoy him and stays in a corner, sorting and re-sorting the medical plants Connor now knows by heart.

These times, Connor falls asleep alone, only to wake up again in the early light of the day and find Evan curled up by his side or between his arms. These times, Connor doesn't want to get up to check if it's still raining, _because of course it's still raining_ , and because Evan gives him a reason to stay warm a little longer.

*

It's maybe a month after the first rising waters that Connor notices the marks on the trunk. The world outside his warm refuge is still composed mostly by dark waters and grey skies, but when he takes a look down at the base of the Tall Tree he actually notices a change : the level seems lower than the day before. He frowns and goes to get Evan to show him the demarcation between completely-soggy-bark and just-wet-bark. Evan frowns too but doesn't say anything. He simply makes his way back inside and picks at his herbs, examinating them close before putting most of them back in his bag.

Connor doesn't ask, _never asks_ , and decides to go back to sleep.

Evan is already up the next morning when Connor gets out to hunt. He's sitting on one of the highest large branches and scans the horizon with intensity, raindrops avoiding him. Connor shakes away the bad feeling he's having and gets to work. That day, he catches a big bird and a couple of rats.

*

From spending so much time in a tree, Evan actually becomes better at climbing : he hardly falls anymore and always catches up with Connor when they decide to run around in the foliage. The fact that they arranged the tree with platforms probably makes the task easier for him. Connor eventually lets him participate when he hunts. The blue-eyed boy, for some reason, is a squirrel magnet : after a week, they have enough fur to make a gripsack.

*

It stops raining. When it happens, Connor hasn't seen the sun in so long that he wonders if he's not just hallucinating. He blinks at the sky but no, the sun isn't going anywhere, and he feels his heart thumping harder in his chest.

Next to him, Evan sniffs the air, quietly noticing the absence of humidity. They carefully come down to look at the water level. It's still pretty high, at least too high for them to dive in and touch the ground without having their head under the surface, but it's still decreasing.

*

Evan grows more and more antsy as the days pass, checking regularly the state of the flood. Connor realizes that he's probably homesick and tired of being stuck in a giant tree with him, and it hurts him a little inside. Connor has nowhere to go once they can come back at ground level, but he can't be jealous of his friend for having a family to go back to. They start packing again, exchanging some of their respective equipment : Evan earns the upper pair of claws, Connor ends with the large hunting knife. They don't talk about how the next day or the one after will probably the last time they see each other.

*

The next morning, Evan is gone by the first light of the day. Connor knows it because he felt him leaving his embrace, stealing away warmth and comfort. Connor hasn't made a move to show that he was awake. If anything, goodbyes would make everything more difficult. In the pink light of dawn, Connor watches him tie on his protections, collect his bag, take the claws and get out. He looks back just once, their gazes cross just long enough for electric blue to meet golden brown, just burning enough for Connor to know he will be missed.

And with that, Evan slips away from Connor's sight.

*

The second time Connor sees the blue eyes, he thinks he's about to die.

It's been roughly a year since the Big Flood and Connor has been too occupied to survive to mourn over another person leaving his life. Life has been almost nice, his hunts fruitful, his sleeping spots safe. Every once in a while he finds a plant that Evan showed him, and his meal is a little bit tastier. Every once in a while he looks up at the bright sun and wonders when it will rain again. Seasons have come and gone, pushing him always further from his birth land. Springs' weather let him travel faster, summer suns scorch his skin, autumnal floods force him back on top of Tall Trees, winters make him stack large amounts dry food in his bag.

But he's been too greedy during one of his hunts, and now he has to walk bent forwards, a hand pressed against his side, the other stabilizing him against trees and rocks. The wound is nasty, no matter how often he cleans it, his med pack is almost empty, the fever is burning him alive. He's so delirious he doesn't even try to hide his traces. Any predator could be after him by now.

He sits under a mossy rock and takes a look at his ribs : it smells like rotten where the skin is broken and unnaturally dark and he knows he has an infection. He sighs and tilts his head back against the stone. _This is the end, it's where he has to stop and let the world catches up because he had to run out of luck eventually_. He grimaces from the pain and decides that it's too much, he can't take it any longer, it's definitely time to let go. He slides sideways and lays his head on his bag.

*

It's old news that Connor is subject to fever dreams. This time, between burning flames licking his body and hammers hitting his chest and skull, he swears he can hear an angry voice menacing him and feel harsh hands grabbing him unceremoniously. He feels his body being lolled long a steep path, each shock sending waves of needles right in his head. He dreams that he's dropped onto a straw bed that stings his back but brings support nonetheless. He feels burning hot and ice cold at the same time, he feels new hands landing on him, cool and gentle, stripping him off his sweaty attire, cleaning his wound, pressing a wet cloth on his forehead.

*

He has no idea how long he's been laying down, but it's been long enough for his legs to crave movement. His fever has dropped and his vision is clearer. He has seen people buzzing around him, talking out louder whenever he pretends to sleep. They speak a language he doesn't know well, but he understands enough of it - _he's tree people, he can't stay,_ someone argues- but there is always someone to growl and reply, _he's a kid and he's injured_ , and the argument always ends there.

*

Connor sleeps through most of his time in the dark hut, and when he's not he passes the time counting the straws composing the ceiling. He's not often awake, and his sleeping schedule is irregular. Sometimes he can see the night sky through a hole in the wall, sometimes it's bright daylight. More often than not all he can see is the inside of his own eyelids, too tired to even open them but not enough to fall back into the trance replacing his nights.

*

His wound is healing nicely and the woman that is often in there caring for him brings him outside to enjoy some sun. She's always sweet and gentle when she puts her hands on him and Connor feels gratefulness for this woman who doesn't know him, who only knows that he's not one of them but treats him all the same. One day, as she's cleaning his side, he tries to say _thank you_ , and she smiles at him so brightly that for a second he thinks he's gone blind.

*

The woman's name is Heidi, he discovers one day. It's a nice name for a nice person.

She's always dressed in soft yellow and light blue, and when she walks in he can see the sun shine in the glint of her tunic. He listens to her a lot now because he's healed enough to walk around without help, which means that he's not allowed to leave the hut, because after all they still don't know what to do about him. He feels proud when he can reply or make her laugh with his terrible pronunciation.

Sometimes she talks to him with a gentle, hushed tone, she tells him about what's happening to the people in the village, about the hunters who come home charged with fat deer and meaty rabbits, about the other healers of the clan who are always roaming the forest in order to find the rarest plants. She tells him about her son that hasn't been home in months, about her friend that drowned last week while fishing, about the neighbor's baby who's weak and probably won't make it during winter. She also tells him about the village's two most loved teenagers getting together, about her garden that's growing nicely, about the sun burning hot above their heads.

He listens, absorbing every bit of information like he absorbs the light : avidly and gratefully. Sometimes, he talks too : he talks about his own clan that is far, _far away from here_ , about his young sister who is probably an adult now, about the trees he can see from the doorstep, about the course of the stars at night. He feels safe, despite not being authorized to leave.

*

Eventually, a delegation of men comes to him one morning, as Heidi is helping him pulling on a fresh tunic without ripping his bandage. They're particularly tall, even for Connor who has generally nothing to envy from anyone, and pretty scary. Without a look in his direction, they mutter things to Heidi, whose worried eyes go from him to something in their hands. Connor can't tell what they're talking about, no matter how hard he tries to eavesdrop.

They finally get out and Heidi walks back to him, a bag held tight against her chest - his bag. She doesn't give it back to him, instead opens it and takes out the hunting knife, large and shiny and in perfect condition because Connor takes care of his stuff, okay ? But here it is, in Heidi's hand, and every piece of the puzzle is falling back into place : the yellow fabric everyone wears, the language, the familiar face of Heidi herself. It hits him that this is probably Evan's clan, that she's probably Evan's mom and that Evan's hunting knife in his travelling bag looks probably more than suspicious.

He tells her that, repeats it over and over, _Evan gave me_ , he says because it's true, Evan gave him the knife when Connor offered the claws, but Heidi shakes her head and looks deeply hurt, and she takes back the bag and the knife, away from him again. She doesn't show up again, and he knows what it looks like, _he knows it looks like he killed Evan_ , but he didn't, he didn't and now he has no one to talk to. He feels betrayed for some reason.

*

The delegation comes back the next day to take him away from the hut. He doesn't know where they're headed, and when he asks he doesn't get any answer, he's only shoved harder by the man behind him, so he stops asking. They cross half of the village under the curious eyes of the inhabitants, and Connor is finally locked up in a hole int the ground closed by metallic bars. He can't do anything, so he sits down and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

He paces around in his tiny humid cell, waiting for something to happen, anything really. He's feeling tired of this. Of everything. He expects the men to come back to kill him, maybe make an exemple out of his death ; he expects some weird plot twist that would allow him to run away ; he expects a long lost acquaintance to miraculously show up and save him.

What he doesn't expect, however, is all of these things happening at the same time. He doesn't expect an explosion from the other side of the village. He definitely doesn't expect Evan, his face covered by a carved wooden mask, rushing to the bars to unlock them, grabbing his hand as soon as the space is large enough for Connor to break out and pulling him out, away from the cell.

It's already night. They run in the darkness in the direction of the huts, avoiding any light or suspicious movement. Evan disappears a second in one of them, only to get out with Connor's bag and weapons. The latter doesn't ask, _never asks_ , just does as he's told and puts his stuff on his back. They move forward, still careful not to draw unwanted attention. The night is at their advantage, letting them slip in the shadows to the edge of the forest. That's when they hear the screams.

Evan freezes, his eyes shining bright blue under his mask, and Connor looks behind them : two of the men that took him in the morning are making their way in their direction, fire sticks in hand. They'll be on them in a matter of seconds, and the two boys have nowhere to hide, nothing to defend themselves with. _They're so screwed._

Connor feels a hand on his wrist and he's suddenly pulled through the trees, away from the men and away from the village. They're running, not knowing where their feet are taking them, relaying more on hearing than sight to flee.

Feet stomping behind them, branches cracking in front, Evan somewhere on his left, and the wind, the wind everywhere, pushing them forward, deeper and deeper into the forest. For a second, he can't hear their pursuers and he has the wild hope that they lost their track, but Evan is pulling and pushing him, shoving him in a hollow trunk.

They squeeze together, ragged breaths and tired muscles from running too much, waiting for the inevitable moment a large hand will appear to grab them and kill them.

Connor presses his fingers against the dead bark, praying for the tree to save them. The old redwood stirs from its long sleep and slowly closes itself around the two runaways, cracking and whimpering, but saving them with the last of its strength. The moment the tree stops making noise, Connor hears two, maybe three pairs of feet passing in front of them. They stop for a second, right next to them, and Connor closes his eyes tight, not wanting to see what could happen. Evan is covering his own mouth to stifle his panicked breath. But nothing happens, and the footsteps carry on.

When the silence is complete again, Evan releases a shaky gasp and starts giggling hysterically. Connor watches him wiggling against him, pushing his mask out of his face and rubbing his eyes.

_They hate magic-doers_ , he tells Connor. They fear them, want them out of sight, or better, dead. Evan should have been dead, if it weren't for that flood that pushed him in the Tall Tree Connor was hiding in.

Connor laughs sadly and tells him he's glad for the rains if it's all it took for them to meet.

They don't fall asleep that night, terrified that someone could come back and find them when they're vulnerable. At the first light of the day, the redwood opens for them : they stretch, releasing the tension of an entire night passed crammed on themselves in a stupidly narrow hole inside a dead tree. Connor pops every articulation he can, satisfied to feel them crack and get them back where they belong.

Evan huffs and gathers their stuff. Then they look at each other in silence.

What can they say ? Evan's tribe wants them dead.

They can't go there anymore. Evan wants to leave ; Connor doesn't stop him. He takes a few steps before turning around and going back to him. _Go north_ , he tells him, _there is a river, it's safe_. Connor shakes his head, because he's not going anywhere without Evan. Not this time. The blue-eyed boy pushes him, gently first, but more and more insistently every time Connor resists. As a last resort, Evan leans forward and kisses him.

Connor isn't expecting it. His eyes go wide as Evan's lips press against his, but he doesn't break away. How could he ? His eyes are burning, but he can't tell if it's from magic or if it's just because he really feels like crying right now. Evan steps back slowly, swallowing hard and eyes burning blue. Before he can go too far Connor grabs his shoulders and pulls him back in his arms, asking, pleading for him to not leave, not now, not when they just found each-other again.

But Evan sighs and looks so hurt that Connor has to let him go eventually. _I will find you_ , Evan tells him, and Connor knows it's true, but it doesn't stop him from hurting.

And just like this, Evan runs away from Connor's life for the second time.

*

Evan does come back.

It's weeks later, when Connor, who has moved north to the mouth of the river, gets out of his shelter to go fishing. It's early morning and the light is dim and it takes him several minutes to understand that Evan is climbing the side of the mount, that _Evan found him somehow_. They stand still for a second before launching themselves at each-other in a synchronized, desperate gesture.

Connor laughs, hugs him like he's about to disappear any moment, wondering if this is real, and he knows he's a mess but it's okay, Evan is a mess too.

They settle down, tangled into each-other, and Evan tells him the villagers were scared of his magic and so he talked to his mom in secret, explained to her why he wasn't coming back, why he was spending so much time in the forest looking for something he lost, how he found it again.

He tells him how Heidi is sorry she thought Connor had killed him, how she blesses them and only ask of them to be happy and safe.

Connor absolutely doesn't cry. He's just the happiest he's been in a very long time.

*

It's real, it's very real, Connor soon comes to realize, as he and Evan fall back into their weird routine they had so much time ago, except that this time it's more... physical.

It's just little brushes of fingers when they pass something to each-other ; it's just kisses stolen when they less expect it ; it's just extended caresses in the morning, hands mapping bodies as the minds aren't fully awake yet and there is still time before the sun is up and they have to get up ; it's just late nights spent gasping and whispering in the dark. Connor claims him under the moon, and Evan makes sure that the sun witnesses them, too.

Connor, eventually, suggests that they leave the cave where they live to build something on higher ground. Evan agrees, and they go.

They spend several days looking for the perfect tree, one that won't move with the wind or won't be submerged by a flood. They settle for an old oak tree, large and crooked and sturdy. _It's a good tree_ , Connor says, and Evan laughs. _It really is_ , he replies as he starts climbing all the way to the top, just to see if he can make it.

Connor isn't worried : Evan doesn't fall anymore. He hadn't in a long time.

*

It takes them time to build their new home. Connor talks to the tree more than once, making sure they aren't hurting it in the process. It's already Autumn when they finish.

Evan seems to like the way it turned out. Connor is glad. He likes it too.

Winter passes by, burying everything under the snow, then Spring melts it all.

Then it's Summer again, with the bright sun and the abundant food. Evan hunts squirrels. Connor finds new herbs for their garden.

_All is good._

*

Years later, when the house and the tree has become one and the place hasn't been cared for in a very, _very long time_ , a lanky figure makes its way around the trunk. Two boulders mark the tombs. She has a mediback strapped on the back, hunting knife on her hip. Gold and blue eyes fall on the two old sets of claws resting on them, untouched, and a hand comes to rest on the cool and smooth surface of the rocks.

Everything is quiet.

She sees the sky and thanks the rains for pushing her parents together. She looks up at the branches towering above her head, and she thanks the tree for protecting her family. She looks down at her hand and thanks the earth for letting them rest.

She thinks about her grandma, who has left the world long before the people buried there, and thanks her for blessing their bloodline.

She is no longer mourning. She doesn't have more time, as the flood season is about to start. She has to go, to try and find the same happiness her own parents found in each-other and with their place in the world.

She hopes they're proud of her.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave kudos and comments, it feeds the author !


End file.
